


Picking It Up

by Tizian23



Category: Jimmy Page - Fandom, Led Zeppelin, Robert Plant - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Feels, Band Fic, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mile High Club, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:50:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tizian23/pseuds/Tizian23
Summary: Jimmy gets a wake-up call.Something has happened and he has to sort it out.Make it better.He has not really an idea how.
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This need to be written to get it out of my head.  
> Bear with me.  
> It will lighten up.  
> it will get naughty and lovely at some point  
> 💛

“ Mr. Page”, a soft voice is intruding my slightly delirious dream, “ Excuse me, Mr.Page! Please! Please wake up.” 

The insistent voice now is accompanied by a hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me. Its certainly no one of the crew or someone who knows me, otherwise they would be aware of my irrational displeasure about being touched by strangers. Or being woken up unbidden. Another careful shake and another quiet plead make me finally open my eyes even though I really don’t want to.  
Its one of the air stewardesses, very pretty in her heavy make up, blonde hair tied up in a massive chignon, lips carefully lined with pink lipstick. Her frankly a bit scandalous, very short uniform dress shows off a pair of killer legs. I decide “I would.” before she even can explain what she wants. In her smile and tone swings but a very unprofessional tone of worry. 

“ I am very sorry to wake you up , Sir, but there is a situation. ..I might need your help. Ahem excuse me, I mean your band mate.. Its Mr. Plant. He’s in … well trouble, it seems.“ Its only then when I notice that his window seat next to me is empty, except for my jumper that he was wearing, sitting next to me reading when I fell asleep.  
“ Trouble, “ I croak slightly alarmed before I clear my throat and try again. “ Trouble! Excuse me, but what are you talking about, Miss?” Into what sort of trouble can someone get on an intercontinental flight? Besides maybe being legless or trying to join the High Mile Club. Both of which options I don’t see how they would get Robert in much trouble since he is on one hand a rather affectionate, boisterous, charming and practiced drunkard and on the other hand joined that club long time ago. The hostess smiles; embarrassed and at loss with me then she tries again. This time she boldly pulls me by the wrist to get me out of my seat. But now I am awake and I finally clock the peculiarity of the situation. I bet its something embarrassing and silly thats why she acts so weird and forward to a famous passenger. Gods know, he probably passed out somewhere or hit on someone and got clocked. Which is more Coles business than mine. So I aim at the row behind me in which he is seated but before I can say something the expression on her sweet face changes to something like pity and anger.  
“ He needs YOU.” She emphasises and pulls me up with a surprisingly strong grip, not letting go as she leans past me to grab my jumper off Roberts seat before almost dragging me down the aisle. I expect the worst, as we arrive predictably in front of the aircrafts 1st Class lavatory door.  
Dear Gods, I think its something unsavoury and I am not the slightest bit willing to take care of the mess he has gotten himself into this time again. She covertly looks up and down the aisle we are standing in, then pulls out a key attached to her little belted dress with which she very quietly unlocks the lavatory door from the outside. Opening the door a very tiny bit she peeks in, then pulls me close and opens the door wider so I can see inside over her shoulder. The tiny room seems empty at first glance but as I lower my eyes I see Robert sit on floor, huddled half under the counter which holds the metal washbasin. He looks neither drunk nor hurt, but something is very wrong. The way he is curled into himself, his knees hugged to his chest conveys a complete and utter distress. His beautiful sky-blue eyes are wide, staring into nowhere, fat tears running over his cheeks. He’s panting for air like he ran a marathon and is shivering in his thin little t-shirt. He seems to not have noticed me standing in the door or anything around him at that.

OH! Balls! I should have seen this coming. I know what this is. I have had that myself. I cover her hand on the door handle with mine and look in her face as I close the door and lean my back against it as if to protect him now that its way too late.  
“ OH dear! How long has he been like that, Miss?”  
“ I don’t know. Three Quarters to maybe an hour? I was busy with the snacks but saw him passing me. He looked absolutely ok, I promise. Then later other passengers complained about the lav being occupied for too long.” An hour! And I was sleeping. I’d slap myself. How did I not notice?  
“Will you do me a big favour, Miss? Not a word about this to anyone, and I mean really no one, promise? Please?” She’s nodding, compassion and relief in her eyes.” Then, in about 10 minutes you go and fetch G…Uhm I mean Mr. Grant for me. I have seen him sleeping the last row of seats between 1st and Business-class. Please be very careful not to wake up or alarm anyone else. Just Mr. Grant! Do you think he might be drunk?” ”  
“NoNO, he just had a single gin-tonic. Then he slept right away.”  
“ Oh good, so please try to wake him up very quietly and don’t let on anything as to why I need him. And Please, not a word to anyone, especially not the guys in the row behind my seat, are we understood, Miss?” She nods once more, gives me an encouraging and still very relieved smile, hands me my jumper that she held onto the whole time and hurries off.  
Still leaning against the door I try to collect myself. I’ve got to be strong for him now at least make him believe I am.


	2. Smoke and Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy tries to pick up the pieces.

2

When I open the door he doesn’t move, not even look up. Good grief! Very first thing I got to do is get him off that fílthy floor. Leaving the door slightly open as to not feel too caged in the tiny room I step inside and hunker down. He bows away from under my hand like a panicky cat as I try to touch him but doesn’t look at me. Turning around on my hunches I close the door before getting on my knees next to him. 

“ Robert! Its me, Jimmy. Baby, what’s wrong? Can you tell me?” Gosh,the dumbest question ever been asked after this disaster of a show but I still harbour the tiny spark of hope its something else. He blinks another fat tear away and sniffs quietly. I shift closer to him, leaning on the wash basin counter, pressing my shoulder against his, desperately ignoring the fact that its basically a public restroom. At least it seems to be very clean and doesn’t not smell at all. While I am still dithering with my feelings about airplane restrooms and their cleanliness I suddenly feel Robert move. He cuddles closer and allows me to put an arm around his shoulder. 

“ Not in talking mood, hm?” He shakes his head, his hair brushing the side of my face. As I look down I see the stiff blood-soaked gold curls rest on my chest. How the hell did we make it on this airplane; I wonder. Hugging him closer to my side I close my eyes for a moment.

✩✩☆

Black and grey smoke hung over the audience and it was so loud you couldn’t hear your own words unless it was a yell. People were screaming and it was not because they enjoyed themselves. Some tried to climb up on the stage, raised by others who they helped up in return. There had been a loud bang in the back of the hall and I saw more translucent smoke rising up. I coughed, my eyes tearing up. Illuminated by floodlights special riot gendarme squads dressed in black like nazgouls were charging at longhaired kids in blue jeans and t-shirts from the stadiums entrances leaving them nowhere to flee to but towards the stage.  
Standing on the edge of the stage back stairs I turned around expecting to find Robert behind me. Richard in front of me urged me to hurry off the stage as quickly as possible, which doesn’t seem such a bad idea given the current apocalyptic situation. The clever half of my band had dropped their instruments when being evacuated off stage by our roadies and technicians but I was still standing with my DragonTele in my left while Cole pulled me by the right. It was still plugged in and the buzz of electric silence coming from the amps behind me deafened everything around me. Looking above I saw stars in the sky clear above the smoke. I could hear my heartbeat. NO scratch that, I could SEE my heartbeat standing centerstage with a stunned clueless expression on his face. Golden Curls floating over his shoulder like a wide halo of innocence lost. His favourite mic on the floor by his white Addidas plimsoles. The excitement had risen his blood to his cheeks and he looked like he is caught in a doomsday fever dream. I called for him but he didn’t hear me over the thunderous backnoise. The mass of people in front of him reached out asking him for help as were climbing onto HIS stage. As if he after all heard me Roberts ripped his eyes away from the hands extended to him. As he met my eyes he said something I couldn’t hear. Cole was still holding on to my wrist, so I dropped the dragon to stretch my empty, open hand towards Robert to make him understand. He seemed to snap out of his trance and walked hesitantly in my direction. Way too slow. Some one ran into him traversing the stage in his hand flowers, the face bloody. Roberts looked mortally wounded and glued to his spot again. I finally shook off Coles hand and rushed to Roberts side touching him, my arm wrapping around his shoulders, offering shelter in the storm.  
“ Come on, Love. We need to leave. This is going to blow up here in a second.” I said gently while walking him offstage. His eyes finally seemed to focus, he nodded, shaking off my hug to take my hand linking our fingers like we were taking a walk in the park. I hastened him over to the stairs, both of us stepping over my Dragon abandoned on the floor. It hurt like only losing a love can, but there was no time to stop pick up unplug and take it.  
“ Jim, the Dragon… we can’t leave …!”  
“ Fuck it! Come on; there is no time.” We slid down the railing over the stairs without even takin steps. Ran down the long concrete tunnels in the Velodromes deserted underbelly, still holding each others hand like Ariadne’s thread to safety. My patent slippers slipped over the floors, I was out of breath and absolutely sure we were lost. Panting hard I stopped at a corner looking exactly like the other 53 corners we ran past; bent double, I felt the pain smashing into me like my lungs were busting together with my heart over the lost dragon. He turned around to me, eyes widening.  
“ You are bleeding, Pagey. Are you hurt?” He touched my face, wiping blood off my lips. I do get those nosebleeds sometimes so I didn’t worry much. But his face was bloody too. A long thin line of red ran down the side of his sweaty, scared face from a small cut near his hairline. Heavy blood drops clung to the tips of his curls over his shoulder, darkening the gold to a threatening red. For the first time I felt my knees go weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case it isn't clear from the story by now, this is about that gig in the Velodrome Vigorelli in Milano May 1971 where the crowd was teargassed by the police during their show and they had to end the gig early.  
> There is a short recording of the few songs they managed to play before noticing what was going on.  
> Here it is:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9331adkt0yU


End file.
